Siya gasped, scandalized, and smacked his arm, her cheeks turning a furious shade of red.

Siya had barely managed to shake off the embarrassment when she felt it again—that familiar, infuriating tug.

Her breath hitched, and she turned sharply, only to see Shashwat once again wrapping her dupatta around his wrist, his expression smug, his eyes daring her to protest.

"Shashwat chhoriye!!" she whisper-yelled, her cheeks burning as she yanked at the fabric, but he held firm.

But he simply smirked, tilting his head toward Kabir, who was standing just a few feet away.

"Chhura lijiye," he whispered, his tone teasing yet possessive.

Siya let out an exasperated sigh, her patience running dangerously thin as she glared at Shashwat.

"Shashwat, agar ab aapne chhora nahi toh, I won't talk to you for five hours!" she warned, crossing her arms.

The moment the words left her lips, he instantly released her dupatta, stepping back as if he had been burned. She merely rolled her eyes and walked away toward her friends.

Shashwat, unwilling to let her go so easily, followed her, though he kept a safe distance. He wasn’t about to risk her actually going through with her threat.

Just as Siya reached her group, Darsh also joined them, his usual composed demeanor in place. But the moment his eyes landed on Divya, his composure faltered just slightly.

He tilted his head subtly, his sharp gaze scanning her face, taking in the way her curls framed her cheek, the way she nervously tucked a strand behind her ear.

Arushi, oblivious to the silent exchange, spoke up. "Varmala kab hoga?"

Siya, still somewhat annoyed with Shashwat, sighed. "Bas sab kha len. Chal, ham bhi khaate hain."

Meanwhile, across the room, Akash’s attention was focused elsewhere.

Richa stood near a large glass window, adjusting her hair as she checked her reflection. Her delicate fingers smoothed over a few loose strands, frustration evident in her furrowed brows.

Akash took slow, measured steps towards her, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

As she focused on fixing her hair, she suddenly felt the soft brush of petals against her locks.

She blinked, startled, and turned her head slightly, finding Akash standing far too close, a faint smirk playing on his lips.

"Yeh kya hai?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper as her fingers reached up to touch the flower he had just placed there.

Akash leaned in, his breath warm against her temple. "Bas iss gulaab ki khoobsurti ko badha raha tha," he murmured smoothly. "Bechara murjhaya sa lag raha tha."

Richa’s eyes widened slightly as a soft pink hue dusted her cheeks. She instinctively elbowed him lightly, looking around to ensure no one was watching.

"Hato ab... koi dekh lega."

But just as she said that, fate decided to test her luck.

Shreya, walked towards her, her sharp gaze immediately locking onto Akash.

He barely had a second to react before her father, Manav, also approached, his presence demanding and firm.

In the span of a heartbeat, Akash’s entire demeanor changed.

In the span of a heartbeat, Akash’s entire demeanor changed.

From a flirtatious troublemaker to an innocent, dutiful guest.

He quickly pulled out his phone and began pretending to be on a call, nodding as if engaged in a deep, business-related conversation.

"Haan, bilkul… hanji… bilkul samajh gaya…" he mumbled, pacing slightly, his back turned towards Richa’s parents.

“Beta, chalo. We want to introduce you to someone,” she said, her tone carrying that unmistakable finality of a mother’s decision.

Richa frowned, suspicion creeping into her expression. “Kis se?”

Just then, Akash, who had been standing nearby, immediately shifted back into his “on a call” act. He turned his back slightly, speaking in a low, serious tone.

“Haan ji… bilkul… haan, woh toh obvious hai… hanji, the project toh finalize karna hi padega…” he muttered, pretending to be deep in an imaginary business discussion.

Shreya, paying him no mind, continued, “Naman bhaisahab ke friend ka beta hai. Bohot acha ladka hai, tumhare liye bilkul perfect.”

Richa’s eyes widened in horror. “Mummy! What’s wrong with you? Papa, aap bhi…?” She turned to her father, seeking some sort of rescue, but Manav stood there with his usual composed demeanor, clearly on board with the idea.

“Aap log mere peeche kyun pad gaye ho?” Richa demanded, exasperated. “I don’t want to get married abhi! Mera college chal raha hai.”

Manav sighed, exchanging a glance with Shreya before speaking in a calm, placating tone. “Beta, hum tumse abhi shaadi ke liye nahi keh rahe. Sirf mil lo usse ek baar. Agar pasand nahi aaya toh mana kar dena.”

As soon as her parents left, Akash grabbed Richa’s hand, pulling her back slightly. His grip wasn’t tight, but there was a silent urgency in the way he held her.

"Mat jao... please," he murmured, his voice softer than she had ever heard before.

Richa looked at him, her heart momentarily skipping a beat at his unexpected plea. "Akash, I have to... aur waise bhi, mai mana hi karungi."

"I know…" he said, exhaling deeply. "Phir bhi, I don’t want you to meet him."

She frowned, confused by the intensity in his tone. "Mummy Papa ko kya bolun?"

His jaw clenched as he quickly said, "Kuch bhi keh do—moch aa gayi, gir gayi, behosh ho gayi… bas usse mat milo."

She stared at him for a second before her phone rang, flashing "Maa" on the screen. With a guilty sigh, she pulled her hand away and whispered, "Jana padega."

Akash didn't say anything. He just stood there, his hands slipping into his pockets as he watched her walk away, his expression darkening with each step she took.

Richa walked into the garden, a victorious smirk playing on her lips. She had done exactly what she said—politely rejected the guy, citing “no connection” as her reason.

But as she glanced around, her eyes landed on Akash.

He was sitting with his friends on the lawn, poking at the chowmein on his plate like it had personally offended him. His jaw was set, eyes distant, his entire aura radiating frustration.

Richa walked toward them with an easy smile, her eyes briefly flickering toward Akash, who still looked like he had just lost a battle. Instead of addressing him, she plopped down beside him and turned to the others.

Reyansh raised an eyebrow at her sudden arrival. "Tujhe kya hua? Alpha Beta se alag yahan kyun baithi hai?" he asked, smirking.

Before Richa could respond, the group expanded as the others joined them.

Siya, munching on a samosa, suddenly spotted Kanak standing at the corner, away from everyone. "Oye Kanak! Tu kahan bhaag jaati hai beech beech mein?" she called out, marching toward her before grabbing her wrist and pulling her toward the group.

Kanak rolled her eyes but allowed herself to be dragged. She spotted an empty chair beside Vihaan and was just about to sit when…

Vihaan—who had been comfortably seated just seconds ago—suddenly shot up from his chair like it had caught fire. Without a word, he darted toward Darsh’s chair and practically threw himself onto it.

The entire group froze mid-conversation, exchanging deadpan stares.

"Seriously?" Siya deadpanned, watching Vihaan pretend like nothing had happened.

Darsh, who had just been evicted from his own seat, gave Vihaan a blank look before dramatically sighing and moving to a different chair.

Kanak, used to this behavior, shook her head with a small sigh and took the vacant seat.

Richa’s fingers brushed against Akash’s hand.

At first, he barely reacted, but when she held onto him tightly, refusing to let go, his muscles tensed. He subtly tried to pull back, but she only tightened her grip.

He exhaled sharply, ignoring her touch, his eyes trained on the table as if it suddenly held the secrets of the universe.

Shashwat, completely unaware of the silent war happening beneath the table, turned to Akash.

"Tu itna chup kaise hai?" he asked, frowning.

Akash, still distracted by Richa’s unrelenting hold, barely spared him a glance. "Arre toh kya karun ab?" he muttered, his voice clipped.

And before anyone could probe further, he abruptly got up, pulling his hand away and leaving the table.

The group sat comfortably inside, their laughter and chatter filling the room, but Akash remained notably silent. He sat with his arms folded, lost in his own world, his jaw clenched just enough to show he was brooding.

Richa, never one to let him sulk for long, sauntered toward him with a lazy smirk.

Instead of sitting in a free chair, she casually leaned against his, her weight pressing lightly against him.

Akash stiffened, surprised, but before he could react, she smoothly pulled a chair from behind and settled into it, her voice carrying through the room.

"Kaisa tera pyaar, kaisa gussa hai tera,

Tauba sanam, tauba sanam..."

The moment she began singing, a spark of amusement flickered in everyone's eyes.

They knew exactly what she was doing.

Siya, never one to miss a chance for fun, leaned onto Akash’s shoulder, resting her elbow there with a teasing grin.

"Are jaisa mera pyaar, waisa gussa hai mera,

Teri kasam, teri kasam..."

Akash rolled his eyes and removed Siya's hand from his shoulder, but the small tug at the corner of his lips betrayed him.

Richa, noticing his reaction, sighed dramatically, as if enacting the tragedy of the century.

"Ek dillagi maine ki thi

Tune toh dil pe laga li..."

She clutched her chest like a heroine in an old romantic film, earning chuckles from the group.

Akash pretended to ignore her, but the way his fingers twitched betrayed his urge to react.

Determined, Richa leaned her head back against his chair, tilting her face up slightly toward him as she sang the next line.

"Sheeshe jaisa toota, aise jo tu rootha,

Aisa hua kya sitam...

Tauba sanam, tauba sanam..."

Akash, who had been holding in his reaction for too long, finally stood up abruptly and walked toward the elders, his face a perfect mask of indifference.

As soon as he left, everyone burst into laughter.

Shashwat, shaking his head in mock disappointment, remarked, "Iske toh ladkiyon se zyada nakhre hain.”

Richa stood up, dusting off her dress as Tara called her over.

"Ye extra hain… jaa ke room me rakh aa," Tara said, handing her a plate full of rose petals.

Richa nodded and started walking toward the room, but her gaze flickered toward Akash.

He was sitting with a group of elder relatives, listening politely but clearly not interested. A mischievous smirk curled on Richa’s lips as an idea popped into her mind.

With calculated clumsiness, she acted as if she slipped, tilting the plate just enough to send a cascade of rose petals down onto his head.

Akash froze, startled. His hand automatically reached up to brush away the soft petals, but then his gaze landed on Richa.

She looked back at him with wide, innocent eyes, biting her lip to keep from laughing.

"I'm sorry… maine dhyaan nahi diya," she said sweetly, stepping closer to dust off the petals from his hair and shoulders.

Before leaving, she winked at him, her eyes twinkling with mischief.

Akash stared after her, his expression unreadable. Then, as if realizing he was still in front of his elders, he quickly looked down at his phone, pretending to be absorbed in it.

But the small, undeniable smile tugging at his lips gave him away.

Meanwhile, Richa walked away triumphantly, keeping the plate in the designated room.

Just as she turned around, she collided straight into a firm chest.

Her breath hitched as strong hands steadied her waist. She looked up—and her eyes met Akash’s intense gaze.

He looked at her, his expression still carrying traces of guilt. Then, with a slight pout, he leaned in and pressed a tender kiss on her cheek. His hands slid gently around her waist, holding her close.

"I am sorry," he whispered, his voice filled with sincerity.

Richa frowned, confusion flickering in her eyes. "Why are you apologizing? It's my fault. I should be the one saying sorry."

Akash shook his head, his grip on her tightening slightly. "Nahi… I was so mad that I didn't understand your situation. Tum apne parents ke against kaise ja sakti ho…" His voice was low, filled with self-reproach.

Richa sighed softly and cupped his face with both hands, her thumbs brushing against his cheekbones.

"For you, I can go against the whole world," she said, her gaze unwavering. "But abhi mai usse reject karne gayi thi."

Akash exhaled, a small smile tugging at his lips. His forehead rested against hers.

"I know… isiliye I am sorry. Mujhe itna gussa nahi hona chahiye tha," he admitted, regret lacing his words.

Richa chuckled lightly, tilting her head. "Tum gussa nahi hoge toh kaun hoga?"

A slow grin spread across Akash’s face before he leaned in again, this time capturing her lips in a soft yet deep kiss, pouring his emotions into it. Richa responded instantly, her fingers threading into his hair.

But before the moment could last, the door swung open.

Their eyes widened in panic. Richa shoved Akash away, making him stumble slightly. He barely managed to regain his balance while she frantically grabbed a few boxes, pretending to arrange them.

Standing at the doorway was Tara.

Her arms were crossed, and she raised an eyebrow, giving them an all-too-knowing look.

"Kya kar rahe ho dono?" Tara asked, her tone amused yet suspicious.

Richa’s heart raced, and she quickly turned back to the boxes, pretending to focus on them. Meanwhile, Akash scratched the back of his head, quickly coming up with an excuse.

"Aunty… mai… network nahi aa raha tha," he said, his voice unusually confident.

Tara’s gaze remained sharp. "Yahan aa gaya?" she asked, tilting her head slightly.

Akash nodded too quickly. "Nahi aunty… I thought aa jayega. Ab bahar dekhta hoon."

And without waiting for another word, he strode out of the room, his face carefully blank.

Richa swallowed nervously, pasting a fake smile on her lips. "I was just arranging these boxes," she mumbled quickly.

Tara didn’t look convinced, but instead of questioning further, she simply smiled knowingly and shook her head.

As Reyansh finally got a moment of peace from the wedding rituals, he walked towards the garden, hoping to catch a breath of fresh air. The air was cool, carrying the faint scent of roses from the decorations, and he loosened his collar slightly, rolling his shoulders.

But his steps came to a halt when he saw Arushi.

She had appeared suddenly, standing a few feet away, adjusting the folds of her dupatta. His gaze instinctively lowered to her neck, and his breath hitched slightly.

She was adorned in an exquisitely designed outfit, every detail screaming elegance. The watch on her wrist was a luxury brand, her dress clearly something straight out of a designer catalog. Everything she wore exuded grandeur—except one thing.

The pendant.

A small, simple pendant that he had gifted her long ago. Among all the expensive accessories, that modest piece of jewelry stood out—because it didn’t match her attire in terms of price or opulence.

But she still wore it.

Just then, one of Arushi’s cousins approached her, adjusting her own attire in a hurry.

"Aru, please fix my dupatta," she requested.

Arushi smiled and immediately began adjusting it, her fingers expertly pinning the fabric in place.

But the cousin's gaze landed on Arushi’s neck, and she frowned.

"Ye kya pehen rakha hai tune?" she asked, tilting her head. "Teri dress ke according, you should have worn that platinum pendant you bought last month. This is pretty, but it’s not looking that beautiful with your outfit."

Reyansh stiffened.

Arushi didn’t. She simply smiled, her fingers still working as she replied calmly,

"This makes me feel beautiful. Toh usse zyada precious hai ye."

Her cousin shrugged, unfazed. "Your wish." She gave a casual smile before walking away, leaving Arushi standing there.

Within seconds, his hand wrapped around her wrist, pulling her away.

"Reyansh—?" Arushi gasped as he swiftly led her away from the crowded area.

They moved past the main section of the venue, beyond the lights and chatter, into a secluded part of the garden where no one was around. The only sound was the rustling of leaves and the faint music playing in the distance.

She finally steadied herself, her back against a tree as she looked at him, startled.

"Reyansh, what are you doing?" she asked, her voice a mix of curiosity and surprise.

And then, without another word, he pulled her into a hug.

A deep, firm, bone-crushing embrace.

Arushi, though surprised at first, let out a soft chuckle before she melted into his hold, her hands coming up to clutch the fabric of his sherwani.

"Reyansh?" she asked gently, her voice muffled against his chest.

He didn’t loosen his grip. Instead, he exhaled deeply, his breath warm against her skin, before he finally whispered, "I wanted to hug you.”

Reyansh pulled back slightly—not enough to break the embrace but just enough for their eyes to meet.

His gaze was intense, filled with a strange mix of admiration, relief, and something deeper—something unspoken.

"You are the best," he murmured, his voice quiet yet fiercely sincere.

"Of course, I am," she replied playfully, her fingers softly brushing against the back of his neck.

"Hato!" She said, trying to sound angry but the blush creeping up her cheeks betrayed her.

"I have to make a call." She muttered, quickly grabbing her phone from the nearby table as he groaned, clearly displeased with the sudden interruption.

"Kise call kar rahi ho?" He asked, still holding onto her waist, his chin resting on her shoulder.

"Sam." She said casually, scrolling through her contacts.

His brows furrowed instantly, jealousy flickering in his dark eyes as he straightened up a little.

"Ye kon hai?" He asked, trying to sound indifferent but the slight sulk in his voice gave him away.

"Friend hai." She replied, her tone nonchalant, deliberately teasing him, knowing very well how easily he got jealous.

His hold on her loosened slightly, and he leaned back against the chair, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Ohh." He muttered, looking away, trying to act unaffected but the small pout on his lips betrayed him completely.

Her eyes twinkled with mischief, biting back a smile at his adorable jealousy.

"Hato na." She said, lightly pushing him away, but he didn't budge.

"Karo baat, maine kab mana kiya." He said, his tone still sulky, making her chuckle softly and she dialled the number.

Reyansh, who had been watching her from a distance, slowly approached from behind, his eyes fixed on the delicate curve of her neck, the way her soft curls cascaded over her shoulder, teasingly covering the very spot where he wanted to press his lips.

Her conversation continued as she discussed the details of the upcoming exhibition with Sam. She was completely unaware of the way his presence neared, the heat radiating from his body reaching her even before his hands did.

And then, his fingers brushed against the bare skin of her arm ever so lightly—just a fleeting